


Obstinance

by deltatime, VioletHorizons



Series: At The Edges of a Canyon [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: (maybe we'll see), Alcohol, Angst and Humor, Competence Kink, Lack of Communication, M/M, Masturbation, More Stubborn Daniel Jackson, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Fixation, POV Daniel Jackson, POV Jack O'Neill, Pining, Slow Burn, Stubborn Jack O'Neill, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29073306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltatime/pseuds/deltatime, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHorizons/pseuds/VioletHorizons
Summary: Can you die of unresolved sexual tension? Who knows! Colonel Jack O'Neill and Doctor Daniel Jackson are on the case."Actions have consequences, whether Jack wanted them to or not. Daniel would have to ensure that these consequences would beverydifficult for him to ignore. "
Relationships: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill
Series: At The Edges of a Canyon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133246
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is written as a sequel to The Classics, the first entry in this series, but stands independently.

After they’d taken care of the Jaffa patrol, Jack gingerly touched his hand to where that last staff blast had clipped his thigh. The adrenaline of battle was still masking the worst of the pain, but he could tell it was a nasty burn. He’d be feeling pretty bad once the adrenaline wore off. His BDUs were scorched badly enough to show the painfully tender skin underneath.

“Carter, Teal’c; check for stragglers. Be thorough. Obviously there’s something worth protecting here,” Jack said. “Remember that clearing, about a mile back? I want you to check that again. I thought it was suspicious the first time, and now I’m even more curious about what they’re hiding there.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam replied, adjusting her grip on her gun and motioning to Teal’c.

“You got the med kit handy, Daniel?” Jack asked. Daniel looked momentarily confused, his eyes tracking from Jack’s face to where his hand hovered over his thigh. He grimaced as he spotted Jack’s wound and swung his pack off his shoulders to dig around in the pockets. He quickly found the med kit and popped it open, going for the med gel. Grabbing the tube, he trotted over and offered it to Jack.

Jack squeezed some ointment onto his finger and tried to cover the wound with it, but when he let go of the edges of the hole in his BDUs, the fabric dropped down to press painfully against the open wound. He winced and tried again.

“Let me,” Daniel said shortly. He crouched and peered through the hole in Jack’s pants, examining the wound. After a moment, he nodded to himself, satisfied with his inspection. “Sit down, this will probably be easier if you’re not putting any weight on your leg. And give me that,” he said, swiping a finger through the gel Jack had already squeezed out onto his own hand. 

Jack used a nearby tree for support to lower himself to the ground, wincing. Damn, that burn smarted. Once he was settled, Daniel hooked the fingers of one hand through the hole in Jack’s pants to hold the fabric away from the wound while he gently applied the gel to the burn with the other.

Jack gritted his teeth. When Daniel gestured for more ointment he dutifully squeezed another glob out of the tube out onto his offered finger and tried to focus on the pain. Better that than to be rude and point out that when Daniel had hooked his hand into the hole in his pants the tips of Daniel’s fingers had inadvertently brushed his dick through his briefs.

Daniel rebraced the hand that was holding the singed fabric away from Jack’s wound and Jack hissed sharply as his fingers gently brushed against Jack’s dick a second time. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m almost done with the gel,” said Daniel, the register of his voice low and soothing. His hand was braced so that if Jack so much as breathed he’d touch him again, so Jack held his breath and tried to subtly reposition their precarious arrangement. 

The hand Daniel was using to keep the fabric off his wound shifted slightly to hold him still. “I know it hurts, but I’m nearly finished. Hold still,” Daniel instructed firmly. Unfortunately, the slight shift had brought Daniel’s hand back into contact with Jack’s dick, where it seemed like Daniel would be leaving it as he finished his work. Fuck.

Jack tensed his thighs, thankful for the way the movement intensified the feeling of the burn, desperate to avoid having a physical reaction to Daniel’s gentle touch and the firm way he instructed Jack to stay still. God, but the tone of his voice was doing things to Jack that he desperately didn’t want to be happening. Daniel’s hand flexed slightly, and Jack’s traitorous dick twitched against Daniel’s fingers. He froze, horrified.

Daniel, to his credit, either didn’t notice or pretended not to. He didn’t even look up as he finished applying the gel with professional efficiency. Even so, it felt like an eternity before Daniel gently removed his hand from its position partially inside Jack’s pants. He took the tube of med gel back from Jack and put it away, then rummaged in a different section of the first aid kit for a suitable bandage.

Jack held the burned fabric out of the way for Daniel to slide the edges of gauze around the burn, but Daniel leaned back and hesitated. Reaching down, he tapped Jack’s thigh in a place where the fabric wasn’t so ruined. “At least for me to get a bandage secured, these are going to have to come down.”

Jack swallowed hard and thought seriously about protesting before discarding the option with regret. Injuries happened, and Daniel was being the picture of professionalism about this. It was the least Jack could do to return the favor. He looked down and unfastened his pants cautiously, careful to avoid shifting fabric over the gelled wound. Before he canted his hips to pull the fabric down, he chanced a glance at Daniel to make sure he wasn’t making him uncomfortable.

Daniel was staring at Jack’s hands where they gripped his open waistband. His expression was intent, his pupils wide and dark. Daniel’s eyes flicked up to Jack suddenly, as if he somehow felt Jack’s eyes on him like a physical touch. As their eyes met Daniel’s expression shifted slightly. It was still dark and intent, but there was an edge of hunger to it that caught Jack in its hold, trapping him there. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and Jack’s mouth went dry. They both leaned closer, drawn by some inexorable pull.

Somewhere above them a native bird called, its warbling bellow raucous and jarring. The spell between them broke. Daniel blinked and looked away, mouth tightening almost imperceptibly. Jack swallowed again, more roughly this time, and returned his attention to gingerly sliding his pants down to bare his wounded thigh. He tried to leave his pants higher on his uninjured thigh in a last-ditch attempt to hide the humiliating physical reaction he was having. He probably wasn’t all that successful, but at least he tried, damn it all.

Daniel knelt down, sitting more comfortably on his heels to allow better stability. Carefully, with gentle hands and quiet competence, Daniel placed a gauze square over the gelled wound and started to secure it in place with a combination of gauze wrap and tape. Jack gazed up at the crowns of the trees above them and tried hard to avoid focusing on how nice Daniel’s warm hands felt on his uninjured skin. His hands were strong and sure as he manipulated Jack’s knee to bend and allow access to the underside of Jack’s leg. He efficiently wound the roll of gauze over and under, securing the main bandage in place. He worked well and rapidly, but Jack was still relieved when Daniel finished placing the final strips of tape and leaned back on his heels to assess his handiwork. 

It wasn’t half bad; the lidocaine in the ointment was doing its job, and with the bandage, he wouldn’t need to reapply or worry too much about infection until they got back to Earth. “Nice handiwork,” Jack said, tone carefully light. “Very tidy. Janet would be proud.”

In an eye blink, Daniel was back in his space, even closer than he’d been before. Rapidly, one of his hands snaked down to clutch at Jack’s bare thigh below the bandage. The other came up, just as fast, to grip the junction between Jack’s neck and shoulder, thumb pressing into the gentle hollow of his collarbone. If Jack thought his expression before was hungry, it was nothing compared to the ravenous way Daniel was looking at him now. Jack opened his mouth to say “What the hell?” but all that came out was an embarrassing high, desperate sound that he refused to classify as a whine.

Daniel’s grip on his neck tightened slightly, pressing into his throat. Jack gasped, hips jerking. Daniel’s expression shifted into a slight smile, no less ravenous than before but now with an edge of self-satisfaction. “You know, I’ve heard of soldiers getting hard in the thick of battle before,” he said, almost conversationally. He shifted closer, pulling out of his seated kneel up onto his knees so he could insinuate himself further in Jack’s space. “Somehow, I don’t think this -” the hand on Jack’s thigh moved to cup Jack firmly through the thin fabric of his briefs, “- is the same situation,” he finished, voice low in Jack’s ear. 

Jack bucked his hips helplessly, mindlessly, the stimulation making him act without thinking. Daniel, curse him, kept him from building any real friction, keeping the pressure of his hand light. “ _Fuck_ , Daniel-” 

“Yes, Jack? Do you need me to take care of you?” Daniel’s voice was soft, almost teasing. “I can take care of more than just your wound. If you let me. If you want me.” His tone shifted, becoming almost vulnerable. “Let me take care of you, Jack,” Daniel said quietly, with a tenderness that finally penetrated through the haze of arousal fogging up Jack’s brain. 

What the hell was he doing? This was _Daniel_. His _subordinate_. What kind of an asshole would he be to take advantage of Daniel like that? Like he was already doing? If Jack let this happen he would be just like the CO’s he’d been disgusted with in the past. The type who couldn’t keep it in their pants, who used their authority to demand sex from those they were supposed to lead, who they were supposed to protect. He had looked down on them, seen them as weak. He’d been unable to understand how they could stoop so low, how they could compromise the trust placed in them by their team and the SGC. How was he any better than them now? 

Self-loathing crashed into him, effectively wilting his erection and erasing all traces of arousal from his system.

Daniel immediately pulled back, as sharply as if Jack had slapped him. There was naked hurt on his face for a brief moment before he masked his expression, and didn’t that make Jack feel ten times worse.

“Ah. Not interested?” Daniel’s tone was deceptively light. Jack knew better. Daniel was _daring_ him to lie. Daniel knew the score.

“ _Not happening_ ,” he said vehemently. And that, at least, was true. “I’m not going to use you like that,” he spat, jerking his ruined pants back up around his hips. He struggled to his feet, nearly trembling with how furious he was at himself. 

Daniel regarded him carefully for a moment before replying. “You know, I’m not military.” 

Jack jerked his head up to stare at him. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?” he demanded.

“You know that my respect for your authority goes only so far.” Jack snorted at that. “Oh, give it a rest. My point is that you know I won't hesitate to push back if I feel like you’re overstepping your boundaries, and I promise, Jack, that this isn’t overstepping my boundaries.” 

Jack stared at him, at everything he was offering, and it _hurt_.

“Drop it, Daniel. This? Will never happen. This _didn’t_ happen, and _that_ is an order.” Jack hated himself, hated the way he was talking to Daniel, but he needed this conversation to be over yesterday.

Daniel’s expression tightened, then shut down completely. It was uncanny. Generally, Daniel wore his emotions on his sleeve, but now there was just… nothing. 

“Yes sir. Understood.”

“Good,” said Jack, more weakly than he intended. He cleared his throat. “Let's get these supplies cleaned up before Sam and Teal’c return.”

“Yes, sir.” Jack hated the way Daniel was speaking now, voice devoid of any inflection or deeper meaning, but it was better than continuing their earlier pointless discussion. 

They cleaned up in silence. As much as he hated the way Daniel had shut down, it was worth it, if he really got the message across. This topic was closed, for good. It had to be. He didn’t think he had the self-control to keep saying no.


	2. Chapter 2

It took weeks for their communication to approach some semblance of normalcy, and even then Jack could tell Daniel was biting his tongue much more often than he’d ever bothered to before. 

In a way, the quiet obedience was actually pretty nice. For a week, he savored it. Finally Daniel was doing as ordered without wasting his breath arguing with him. Jack could trust that he’d be obeyed immediately even when he was pulling Daniel from some seriously interesting archaeological finds. Finally, “It’s time to go, Daniel,” was greeted with quick, if dull, acquiescence. No more arguing for an extra five minutes to collect “just one more” rubbing that would turn into an hour of painstakingly copying out an entire wall of unfamiliar runes. It was downright refreshing.

It was driving Jack insane. 

And look, he understood that he’d been the one to drive this particular wedge between them, but didn’t Daniel understand that it was _necessary_? The cold shoulder routine was getting pretty old, especially when he ended up spending the majority of his time with the guy on extended off world missions.

The lack of conversation forced Jack to find other ways to occupy himself during long hikes like the one they were currently slogging through. At this point he’d practiced the takeoff and landing procedures of every aircraft he was certified on and a few he wasn’t, for every combination of mechanical failure and weather conditions he could think of.

The scenario he was turning over in his mind was a single-engine failure in an F-4 landing at St. Cloud Regional using runway 31 with the extra flavor of significant wind shear. Jack didn’t bother to rationalize why he might be landing a fighter jet at an airfield in Minnesota. 

Unfortunately, despite the perilous and engaging conditions he’d invented for himself, Jack found he couldn’t concentrate on mentally reciting the proper procedures. Daniel had gotten a new thigh holster and while it _looked_ great, apparently it didn’t _feel_ quite as nice. He’d been fiddling with it on and off for the past mile or so. 

"For God's sake, Jack, stop torturing yourself." Daniel looked up from the strap of his thigh holster that he’d been adjusting and met Jack's eyes. He was glaring. 

"What?" Jack snapped back. He shifted his gun in his hands.

"This," Daniel said, exasperated, slipping a thumb under the holster strap at the front of his thigh.

"Tell me, Daniel, how exactly am I torturing myself with your thigh holster?" He was stalling; Jack knew full well what Daniel meant. He'd been scanning the forest around them while Daniel adjusted himself for the ten thousandth time, and every time his eyes passed Daniel with one knee down on the forest floor he lingered an extra second on the way the leather pulled his BDU fabric tight against his quad. 

He was just checking in on Daniel's progress, that's all.

Daniel rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you think I'm doing, trust me, I'm not," Jack said.

Daniel's lip curled in disgust, just the tiniest bit. He scoffed, got to his feet, and set off down the animal trail faster than before.

Daniel had apparently tightened the strap before he stood. Now it cradled the bottom of his ass. Jack watched a little longer to make sure it wasn't _too_ tight.

* * *

Jack wasn't sure who the unlucky bastard in charge of stocking the Stargate Command disguise closet was, but whoever it was, he was going to kill them. Or maybe he'd kill Daniel. Someone had to suffer for their sins; Jack wasn't picky about who.

As much as Jack tended to despise them, their current mission required disguises. Teal'c had simply worn his personal clothes - add a bandana and he was all set. Carter lucked out with a one-size-fits-all robe thing, to which she'd added a complicated-looking zat holster, and she looked every inch the gray market trader they were all supposed to be. Jack himself was dressed in a taupe canvas boiler suit that felt almost like a flight suit. It was his go-to; he kept it hidden in a back corner so no one else realized how comfortable it was and made off with it.

Daniel, with an anthropologist's focus on realism and blending in, had spent nearly an hour in the costuming room, eventually coming out with a complicated outfit that Jack had to admit fit the disguise perfectly. A cape that loosely matched Carter’s robe thing was fastened at his throat over a high necked shirt adorned with a complicated series of buckles and fastenings that looked like they’d taken him the better part of the hour to assemble correctly. Comfortable boots hugged his calves, and he’d completed the look with a matching set of leather pants that conformed almost intimately to his legs and thighs. 

"I swear these fit the last time I wore them," Daniel said, testing his range of motion in the way-too-tight pants.

"And when was that?" Jack asked, _not_ looking.

"Maybe a couple years ago."

"So thirty pounds ago?" Sam teased.

Daniel gave her a dirty look.

" _SG-1, your check in point is swiftly approaching. There is not a moment to be lost,_ " their Tok'ra contact's voice came over their radios. Jack thought Daniel probably had time to change, since if shit hit the fan he wouldn't be able to run very quickly in those _fucking_ leather pants, but the whole team was hurrying to the gate room before he could figure out how to say something that didn't include the phrases _Daniel's incredible ass_ or _we can all see each individual muscle fiber in your thighs_ or _I’m pretty sure I can tell that you’re uncut_.

As it happened, shit _did_ hit the fan, and they _did_ have to run away. They made it about thirty yards before Daniel said "fuck" and slowed down a little.

"You okay?" Jack asked. While they were running away, it was more of a pan-pan situation than a true mayday.

"Yeah, uh, fine," Daniel said and continued running, faster than before.

They sprinted another couple hundred yards then eased up on the pace. Best to get to the gate sooner rather than later, but since no one was shooting at them, Jack figured they could take it easy. As easy as they ever could take it, when beating an expeditious retreat.

"Daniel Jackson, are you injured?" Teal'c asked in an infuriatingly normal, even tone that gave absolutely no hint that they'd been running for half a mile.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Daniel said, a little breathless.

Jack glanced over at him. He was running unevenly but not in the way people did when guarding an injury or a blister. It was confusing until Jack saw a sliver of pale skin high on the inside of Daniel's thigh.

Oh fuck. "Little wardrobe malfunction there, Daniel?" Jack said. The waver in his voice was because he was running for his life.

"Fuck off, Jack," Daniel replied.

Jack didn't think there could be anything worse than Daniel in his painted-on leather pants, but that glimpse of inner thigh would haunt him for _days_.

* * *

Jack was staring at Daniel again. He knew he was, but he no more could stop looking than he could stop breathing. "Throw that out. You can't take that through the gate," Jack snapped at Daniel as soon as he walked into the gate room.

"This? They gave it to me at the bank. It's my favorite flavor." Daniel popped the sucker out of his mouth and waved it at Jack.

" _Yes,_ Daniel, the sucker. Toss it."

"Sucker? Really?"

"That's an order. Don't make me say it again."

"I used to fight with the guys in the linguistics department at U Chicago about sucker versus lollipop. _Sucker_ always struck me as crass, but the Midwesterners stuck to their guns."

"Toss. It."

Daniel swiped his tongue around the candy one more time then threw it in a trash can. Jack tried desperately to avoid wondering if Daniel might put _other_ things in his mouth with the same enthusiasm.


	3. Chapter 3

Clearly something was wrong with him. Jack couldn’t get Daniel out of his brain. If Daniel was nearby Jack inevitably ended up drawn to him like some sort of screwed up orbital gravity situation. If he wasn’t around, well, there hadn’t been too many opportunities for that recently. If only SG-1 weren’t so blasted _needed_ all the time. Even now he knew there were first contacts to handle, planets to explore, and technology to retrieve, but Hammond had been firm, if apologetic, after the debriefing that day: “Go _home_ , SG-1. Remember what your own pillow feels like for a night. God knows you’ve earned it. I don’t want to see any of your faces on base for the next 24 hours. I mean it.”

Jack shoved the thoughts of the SGC, including frustrating linguists, from his mind. If he was going to relax, he’d damn well embrace it. Finally, Jack could relax at home. Alone, blessedly alone. He cracked open a beer and flipped on the sports channel, delighted to find a local collegiate basketball game just starting. 

After one beer, Jack thought maybe it had been a little too long since he'd gotten some, and that’s why he’d been so hung up on Daniel recently. The schedule they’d been on had taken its toll on more than just his very important fishing schedule and poker nights. Jack hadn’t had the time to trawl a bar for company or even take himself in hand in ages. No wonder he’d taken to staring at Daniel’s lush lips as if he could find out what they’d feel like on his skin if only he looked hard enough.

He shook his head angrily. This is exactly what he needed to avoid. Grumbling to himself, he fetched a second beer. He popped the cap off and chucked it into the recycling bin as he passed, taking a healthy drag. He sighed, content. The condensation felt perfect against his fingertips, the couch felt perfect beneath him, and this game was exactly the sort of entertainment he needed to lose himself in.

Jack chuckled to himself as he drained the last dregs of the second bottle. It was a little ridiculous that he’d been hung up on Daniel like this when he could just take care of himself if he needed to. Colonel Jack O’Neill was the picture of self-sufficiency in most aspects of this life, why not this one too?

Jack gave up on pacing back and forth between the fridge when he went to grab his third bottle, plucking the flimsy cardboard six pack from the fridge and returning with it to the couch. He’d always prided himself on handling his issues all by himself, especially since Sara left-

He yanked the cap off the next bottle viciously, halting that thought in its tracks. He’d given up thinking about Sara while drinking long ago. Sighing, he returned to watching the game, the squeaks of the basketball player’s sneakers on the slick wooden floors soothing in a way he didn’t realize he needed right then. He pressed the cool bottom of the nearly empty bottle to the bridge of his nose. Everything was perfect, so why couldn’t he just relax? 

He nursed his third? fourth? beer as he mulled it over. Beer? Check. 10 year old couch that was worn in all the right places? Check. Game on TV? Check. He dropped the empty bottle in the cardboard pack, fetching a replacement at the same time. Maybe he _should_ take care of himself then, just to relax. Sure, he wasn’t feeling particularly hot and bothered at the moment, but leisure time was precious, especially given the grueling pace SG-1 had been forced to work at recently.

Fiddling with the bottle between his hands, Jack realized that he had no idea what had happened in the game over the last quarter. He snorted, irritated. Fine. If he was going to be distracted either way, he may as well stop contemplating and do something about it.

Standing, he made his way to his bedroom, tossing the bottle in the recycling bin as he passed. He felt stuffy, confined in his own skin. He yanked at his clothing, disrobing with little grace, leaving his shirt just inside the door and his pants next to the bed. He usually did this in the shower, if he did it at all, but what the hell. He dug in the bottom drawer of the nightstand for the lube - a long-ignored tube of the really nice silicone stuff Jack had from when he _was_ getting some more regularly.

He ungracefully flopped on the bed, rolling over onto his back. He still felt off, too uncentered, so he took it slow. Stroking his hands across his chest and down his sides, Jack brought up the trustworthy mental image of a tall brunette, exceptionally well proportioned. Curvy, yes, but also built like she could hold her own in a fight. Satin and lace lingerie, red lipstick, yeah, that would do it.

As he brought himself up to full mast, Jack traced the tips of his fingers across his thighs and over his balls. Just the fingertips, and just close enough to brush the skin. Jack closed his eyes and sighed, embracing the way the sensation finally unknotted the tension in his shoulders. When his cock tapped his belly insistently, Jack squeezed a dollop of lube into his hand and spread it liberally over himself with firm strokes.

God, it felt like silk. He cupped his balls with one hand and wrapped the other around his shaft. He was hard, so hard now, but his pleasure felt like it was stuck at a plateau. Jack added another woman to his fantasy, both of them on their knees in his mind's eye, mouthing over his dick. He rubbed one thumb slickly across the head of his cock and enjoyed the mental picture as it played out.

In his mind, their lips felt plush and slick with saliva. He arched his back, groaning. He made a ring out of his thumb and forefinger and squeezed his cock down to the base, mimicking the feel of lips pulled over teeth. God, he missed being blown, those plush lips, twining his fingers in their hair, wondering what the scrape of stubble would feel like on his thighs as Daniel took him deep, staring up at him through those too-blue eyes as he sucked Jack’s cock almost sweetly -

Fuck, and now he was thinking of Daniel, sans glasses and plus a healthy amount of scruff. His dick throbbed hard and he cut Daniel out of the fantasy. One woman, long hair brushing his thighs as she sucked on his cock as if it was a lollipop, tonging over the head delicately, like the way Daniel had with the sucker he’d brought to the gateroom the other day, lips shining with saliva as he laved his tongue over the hard candy.

“ _Fuck_.”

Jack opened his eyes. Maybe if he stopped fighting it, maybe if he had one earth shaking orgasm thinking about Daniel, he’d get over it. He liked women, had always liked women, but he wasn’t obsessed with staring at Carter all the damn time. It was entirely possible that if he let himself really think about the logistics of all of it, the shine would come off and he’d be cured of the whole Daniel thing in one easy step. What was the worst that could happen?

He didn’t let himself answer that question. Every time he tried, something even worse than his imagined “worst” always seemed to happen to him.

Jack let his eyes fall closed and took himself back in hand. Now, after having given himself permission, the suppressed feelings hit him full force. Daniel’s full lips around his cock, the hot, velvet-soft wetness of his mouth engulfing him… Jack dropped his hand from his dick because one more _second_ of touch was going to make him come, and this felt too good to end that quickly. He needed this to last long enough for a lifetime.

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Jack grasped his dick again and was more careful to not push himself to the edge. He alternated between slow, firm stroking and more gentle touches, almost teasing, stroking himself close but not too close to orgasm.

It got harder to ride that edge as the fantasy Daniel moaned and sucked. Jack thought about the way his cheeks would hollow in counterpoint to his full lips, and how Daniel’s talented tongue would feel flattened against the underside of his dick, or curled into the ridge below his cockhead, or pressed gently against his slit. Jack had always had a thing for eye contact, and it was _so easy_ to imagine his blue eyes looking at him through half-closed lashes, wanton and needy and adoring. God, Jack loved -

Nope, too far, even for a fantasy. Jack edited that out and tried not to think about how or why it got included in the first place. Moving on.

Jack imagined Daniel pulling off his cock, repositioning himself over Jack with his knees bracketing Jack’s hips. _You have no idea what this would be like,_ a contrary little voice in Jack’s head said. Maybe, maybe not. He’d done anal with women before. Couldn’t be that different.

As fantasy Daniel reached behind himself to position Jack, Jack made a fist above his dick. Daniel sunk down, one hand on his own cock, and Jack simulated the penetration by thrusting up into his own tight hand. And, oh fuck, it was going to be too much. Daniel bottomed out, and Jack jerked himself hard as the shivery feeling of a really, really good orgasm spread from his groin through his body.

The force of it made his hips stutter and his toes curl. His shoulders came off the bed as his abs contracted in time with the pulses in his balls. Hot come spattered as high up as his neck; wildly, he imagined it what it would be like to have Daniel come on him like that and the thought sent another pulse of pleasure shooting through his body, powerful enough to feel like a second orgasm in its own right.

After what felt like an eternity, the last pulses of his orgasm finally released him, leaving him with muscles that felt like jelly from the exertion. Jack fell back to the bed and breathed heavily for a long few minutes. That had been the best orgasm he’d had in years, maybe in the last decade. For a moment, he existed in bliss, head empty as his mental processes started back up. Slowly, the fantasy slipped away. In its place he was struck by a horrible realization: this definitely had _not_ cured him of the _whole Daniel thing_. 

If anything it was now worse.

Shit.


	4. Chapter 4

The quartermaster had finally put her foot down that morning when Jack requested a new tent for the fourth time in as many months. _Sorry, sir, we’re out of spares,_ she had said without even a hint of apology in her voice. _The other members of your team each have a tent in working order. You’ll have to share with one of them._

It was so not Jack’s fault that his tents kept meeting their untimely demise. The first was swept away in a flash flood they’d only barely managed to escape from. The second contracted a nasty case of _sixteen-inch gash in the sidewall_ when a giant alien spider-thing had snuck in after Jack and needed to be killed. The third sacrificed itself in a shootout with some Jaffa, and the fourth was the key negotiating chip in a deal with some locals whose tent creation enterprises left something to be desired.

Really, Jack was only directly at fault for the loss of _one_ tent, but the quartermaster wouldn’t hear a word of explanation.

“Hey, Teal’c, mind sharing a tent tonight? Major Reynolds wouldn’t give me a new one, even though it was really Daniel who traded my last one away,” Jack asked him when they selected a spot to make camp for the night.

Teal’c stared at him, eyes very slightly narrowed.

“Okay, no big deal, I get it, I’ll ask Carter,” Jack said. Who was he kidding, sharing with Teal’c was a non-starter anyway; they’d have to sleep head-to-foot for their shoulders to fit, and no way was he putting his face anywhere near Teal’c’s feet. He walked over to Sam’s spot and made himself useful putting tent poles together.

“You’re welcome to share with me as long as you’re a reasonable tent-mate,” Sam told him. “Keep your gear on your side of the tent and orderly, make sure you stow any equipment you’re not using right away, no boots inside the tent, and I even have this little dustpan and brush so if you accidentally get any dirt inside you can -”

“You know what? I’m going to ask Daniel,” Jack said, handing her the pole. However weird and tense his working relationship was with Daniel, he got the feeling that breaking any of Sam’s rules would make his life even more hellish.

Or he could sleep _al fresco_. He had a sleeping bag and a tarp. It wouldn’t be the worst night of sleep he’d ever had. Jack squinted at the thick gray clouds, still miles off at this point. He was no meteorologist, but his back-of-the-envelope forecast wasn’t looking good for sleeping under the stars. Having wet socks tomorrow was more than Jack thought he could bear.

He might end up just splitting with whoever was on watch, taking their empty sleeping bag while they stayed up. After a moment of consideration, he discarded that option; he’d have to wake up and move every two hours, and he might as well not sleep at all at that point. Plus, instead of imposing himself on just one person, everyone on the team would be forced to share their personal space with their commanding officer.

Daniel already had the tent set up most of the way when Jack went over to assist him with the rain fly. Daniel only looked at him blandly before elbowing him out of the way and deftly settling the fly over the tent by himself. 

“We can share,” Daniel said shortly. His tone was carefully polite in a way Jack knew meant he was masking deep irritation. 

Fine, be that way. Whatever. It was only for one night; when they got back to Earth tomorrow Jack could go to a camping store and get his own damn tent. It could even be _really_ waterproof; no matter how many times he used the Air Force issue waterproofing on the Air Force issue tents, his gear always ended up feeling musty and damp. 

After the tents were set up, the fire made, the MRE entrees heated, and the snacks bartered for, SG-1 moved on to the after-dinner tradition of spirited arguments about anything and everything. Tonight the subject was, to Jack’s great personal displeasure, whether or not Jack should be held personally liable for his repeated tent mishaps.

“Perhaps if you had shown more remorse, Major Reynolds would have provided you a repair kit,” said Teal’c.

“Really, sir, you brought at least part of this on yourself. Those tents are expensive, and Reynolds has every reason to believe you aren’t as careful with them as you could be,” added Sam.

Jack frowned at her. “ _Humanum fuit errare, diabolicum est per animositatem in errore manere,_ ” he said, irritated enough to dump the dumb colonel façade, if only for a moment.

Daniel, who had not been participating in the conversation, suddenly looked up from his book. “I very much doubt this is what Saint Augustine meant,” he said slowly. Sam and Teal’c looked at him blankly. “Uh, to err is human but to forgive is divine,” he translated aloud. “It’s a pretty well-known line from one of the more famous Catholic saints. I didn’t know you spoke Latin, Jack.”

“I don’t,” Jack said.

“ _Sic, tu facis_ ,” Daniel argued. For better or for worse, this was the most normal interaction they’d had in weeks. “ _Quando te scire Latine?_ ”

“Time loop. You taught me. Stop excluding Carter.”

“I’m sure I didn’t teach you anything remotely related to theology.”

“Can’t keep up with the _usus antiquior_ without at least a little Latin. _Pax tecum_ ,” Jack said.

Daniel, taken aback, sputtered at him. “What? Why would you - I cannot believe you. I cannot believe… you.” He rolled to his feet and stomped off to his tent with his book and flashlight.

“I didn’t even do anything!” Jack shouted after him. “What’s got his undies in a twist?” he asked Teal’c and Sam.

Teal’c raised an eyebrow at him, and Sam just shrugged.

“When _did_ you learn Latin, sir?” Sam asked.

“Like I said. Time loop. Teal’c knows it too. Don’t you, buddy,” Jack said.

“I do,” Teal’c affirmed.

“Anyway. Like I was saying. Even if I did do something wrong, and I maintain that I did not, it was a mistake and Reynolds should just do her damn job and give me a tent. Subjecting us _all_ to pissed-off Daniel is cruel and unusual.”

“She can’t just give you a tent if she doesn’t have any to give. Didn’t she tell you there weren’t any spares left? That’s not her fault,” Sam said.

They debated the topic until nautical dusk, the easy camaraderie a soothing balm to Jack’s previously surly disposition. At least some parts of his team were working smoothly, even if his relationship with Daniel was in desperate need of repair. 

When it began to get dark enough to affect visibility, Jack assigned Sam the first watch before he and Teal’c headed to their respective tents to bed down for the night. Ignoring Daniel completely, Jack only barely bothered to pull off his boots before dropping ungracefully onto his sleeping bag. There, secure in the knowledge that his team had his back, he slept.

* * *

In the dead of the night, Jack very suddenly jolted to full alertness. He didn’t tense, didn’t allow even a slight variance to his breathing. Too many times rising to consciousness in the clutches of a power-hungry Goa’uld had left Jack with a strange quirk- when he awakened suddenly in unfamiliar places he could fairly convincingly maintain outer unconsciousness as surveilled his surroundings and gathered his wits.

Right now, the only thing he could hear was the soft sound of Daniel’s breaths, in and out as he snoozed on, oblivious in dreamland. Jack could hear him shifting uncomfortably in his sleep; probably nightmares. All of them were prone to them occasionally, especially in this line of work. Jack turned his head slightly and opened his mouth, prepared to wake Daniel with a gentle “Hey!”, but something stopped him. 

The dying embers of the fire still illuminated Daniel’s side of the tent, throwing his dark silhouette into sharp contrast. He was still shifting, almost rhythmically. His soft exhales had increased slightly, to the point where they were almost sighs, the softest hint of Daniel’s low register creeping through. Jack squinted, regarding him carefully through his peripheral vision. Daniel wasn’t sleeping, or having a nightmare, he was-

Daniel made a soft, irritated noise and shifted again, shoving the sleeping bag down, baring his midsection. Jack couldn’t make out details, but he could make out the way that Daniel had wrapped his large hands around himself intimately, one appearing to palm over the head roughly while the other was lower, much lower, and either Daniel was gently fondling his balls or he was playing with his hole.

It took all of Jack’s experience staying quiet in life or death situations to avoid allowing the gasp choked in his throat to escape his lips. Heat swirled low in his belly. He’d been so sure that time and space would fix the tension between them, but all the emotions he’d worked so hard to suppress were coming back with a vengeance.

Daniel was touching himself, and it didn’t seem to matter to him that Jack was _right there_.

* * *

Daniel had, up until today, prided himself on how he’d distanced himself from his crush on Jack. Sure, it was painful, but it must be worse for Jack. Daniel had had coworkers and subordinates hit on him before, but he’d never had someone climb into his lap, grab his dick, and proposition him quite as _ambitiously_ as Daniel had to Jack not so long ago. Daniel knew how ashamed and embarrassed and horrified he was, and he could only imagine how much worse it must be for Jack.

He hadn’t quite gotten a handle on exactly what level of professional detachment was correct given the situation, but he figured it was better to be too considerate than not enough. Show Jack that it wasn’t going to be a problem. Things could be normal, eventually.

Until that fucking Latin came out of Jack’s mouth and got him hot and hard in the space of one sentence. He’d gotten up in a huff and went to the tent under the guise of _irritated at Jack_ , which Sam and Teal’c probably didn’t buy but he hoped Jack would at least entertain. He’d read by flashlight until Jack entered the tent, trying desperately to distract himself from how flawlessly fluent Jack’s diction had been. Daniel himself wasn’t confident enough with the spoken language to speak it with the kind of nonchalance Jack had.

Jack had the decency to say nothing while he settled into his sleeping bag, and while Daniel laid awake long after Jack fell asleep, he did eventually drift off to sleep.

Sleeping may have been a mistake because with sleep came dreams, and with dreams came Daniel’s graphic imagination brought to life. He jarred himself awake with the sense memory of Jack pinning him roughly to a bed, murmuring filth in his ear in a dead language. 

He was every bit as hard as he’d been hours earlier, except now he was _aching_ for it.

It wouldn’t be the first time and likely wouldn’t be the last he took care of himself in a tent off-world, although it would be the first time with anyone lying right there next to him. 

He hesitated. This was surely crossing a line.

Daniel tried to talk himself out of it for several moments, but he was damn sure he wouldn’t get any sleep if he didn’t take care of himself now. According to their briefing, there was a long day of hiking ahead of him tomorrow. Really, it was in the team’s best interest if he just handled the issue. He peeked at Jack and confirmed that his commanding officer was still dead asleep, still facing away from him in the enclosed space.

He could be quiet. Jack would never know.

Daniel slowly and silently slid his hand from his stomach down to his cock, rigidly hard under his briefs. It was a good thing he was so close already because there was no way he could get away with really fucking his hand the way he usually needed for a satisfying orgasm. The swish of the sleeping bag as he moved his fingers against the head of his dick was loud in his ears - too loud? Maybe. Better to get the fabric out of the way altogether.

He pushed the already-half-unzipped top of the sleeping bag down to his hips and was grateful for the temperate climate of this planet making things so easy and non-freezing. The rustling of his repositioning was loud in the otherwise quiet night, but Daniel hoped that it just sounded like he had gotten too hot in the night and needed to cool off. Which, he thought, wasn’t exactly untrue. Still, Daniel didn’t move for a few seconds, listening and waiting for some indicative noise or movement from Jack.

When none came, he tentatively wrapped one hand around his cock and gently cradled his balls with the other. He still listened, alert - was that a slightly shorter breath from Jack just now? Or was he imagining things? Cautiously, he waited a moment longer and willed Jack to either go back to sleep or tell him to cut it out.

After some time, Jack’s breathing seemed to even out, and Daniel slowly let out the breath that he’d been holding. He hadn’t been caught. Emboldened, Daniel cupped his balls with a little more vigor and palmed the head of his dick, gently petting, spreading the precome that beaded liberally from the tip down the shaft. Once he was satisfied with the slick slide of his hand as he softly stroked his cock, he tightened his grip and bore down in earnest. 

Daniel recalled his dream, letting himself relax into the memory. Jack had been holding his wrists to the bed, settled firmly on his thighs so that Daniel couldn’t move, couldn’t fight the way Jack was lining up their cocks even if he wanted to. Daniel gripped his cock firmly, mimicking the way Jack held their cocks together in his mind’s eye. Jack’s lips were high on his neck, voice low and rough in his ear as he detailed innumerable favorable qualities of Daniel’s cock. He was speaking in Latin, the same near-flawless Latin from earlier when Jack had blithely demonstrated total competence over a language that hadn’t had any native speakers for thousands of years, a language he claimed to have learned from Daniel himself. Wildly, Daniel realized that Jack’s slight accent mimicked his own. 

Daniel was close, so close, when he heard a strange swish of nylon from Jack’s side of the tent. He was too close to stop, hands frantic on himself, one pumping his cock while the other circled, just a tease, at his own asshole. He snuck a look at Jack from the corner of his eye and barely stopped himself from choking audibly.

It was still too dark to see the exact details of where Jack was looking and what he was doing, but the angle of his face toward Daniel when before he’d been facing away betrayed him. That, and the way Jack’s sleeping bag moved over his lap as he stroked himself deliberately.

Oh, _fuck_.

Daniel came without warning, unable to completely choke off the quiet gasp that escaped his lips as his release tore through him. He stroked himself through the pulses of his orgasm, listening greedily to Jack as he made a similar choked-off grunt mere moments later.

Well, at least he was in good company. Exhibitionism had never been his thing, but Daniel supposed a lot of things could be his thing if Jack was involved.

It was far from the best orgasm he’d ever had, especially having been caught by surprise like that, but at least it had rid him of the tight, aching feeling in his balls. He waited, impatiently, but the blissful post-orgasm relaxation never came. 

Irritated, Daniel wiped his hand clean on yesterday’s socks. So Jack wouldn’t use him for sex, but he had no problem using him for cheap midnight wank material? God forbid Daniel himself got to benefit, but Jack could have his orgasm no-strings-attached with tailor-made real-life pornography three feet away.

Daniel was quietly furious. Whatever command authority, team dynamic, fraternization regulations, don’t ask don’t tell _bullshit_ Jack had fed him those weeks ago when he turned Daniel down flat, obviously weren’t as important as getting his rocks off consequence-free.

Well, fuck that. Actions have consequences, whether Jack wanted them to or not. Daniel would have to ensure that these consequences would be _very_ difficult for him to ignore.


	5. Chapter 5

The next time anyone said a goddamn word about how “it wouldn’t be so bad if not for the humidity” Jack was going to shoot someone. It did not matter that Sam was saying it with all kinds of science words like “wet-bulb temperature” and “adiabatic cooling.” Jack could recognize the standard complaint about Midwestern summer, even disguised as it was by thermodynamic jargon.

“Carter,” Jack said, tone carefully tolerant. He pressed his lips together in a tight, impatient smile.

“The good news is that the atmosphere is so thick with the humidity that we don’t need to worry too much about sunscreen. Actually, if it weren’t for the heat, this planet might be an excellent candidate for potential future refugee relocation operations,” Sam said. Damn her, she seemed almost unaffected by the oven they were standing in.

“Really?” asked Daniel.

“Really what?” Sam replied.

“No sunscreen necessary.”

“Oh. Yeah. See, UV radiation is one of the more delicate types, and - what are you doing?”

They’d all taken off their tac vests pretty immediately, but Daniel was now stripping out of his BDU jacket down to his undershirt. Jack supposed as the commanding officer that he should say something about him being out of uniform, but he couldn’t bring himself to torture a member of his team by making him put the jacket back on.

“Daniel’s right. Jackets off, kids. No heatstroke allowed today,” Jack ordered with grim good humor. He dropped his own on the steps by the gate and gestured for the team to toss their jackets there as well.

“You know, the Abydonians wear cotton robes, even when it’s this hot - long sleeves, floor-length, six or eight yards of fabric. You’d think it would be unbearable, but it’s actually quite comfortable. It’s a dry - “

“Aht! I have heard enough of ‘if it weren’t so humid it wouldn’t be so bad’ for about four lifetimes!” Jack interrupted. Daniel gave him a withering look and pulled off his undershirt. Jack’s brain ground to a halt. 

Daniel’s bare torso was a sight to behold. His years at the SGC had treated him well; his prior life of archaeological digs and academic conferences had been nowhere near as demanding as his current role as an anthropologist on an active duty SG unit. While Daniel wasn’t anywhere near as bulked out as Teal’c, his lean musculature and softly defined abdomen had Jack swallowing roughly. 

The peculiar golden light that marked the atmosphere of this strange planet complimented Daniel well. Jack took a moment to admire the picture he made as he lazily wiped his face and neck with his balled-up undershirt. His skin was sweaty; moisture dripped from his temples and pooled in his clavicle. In the golden light, he practically shimmered. Jack wondered what his neck would taste like, all sun-warmed and salty. 

Okay, enough of that. “Just get the damn readings, Carter, and let’s get out of here.”

“Well, we don’t expect the atmospheric naquadah levels to be any higher than a few parts per billion. Even with reserves as significant as this planet has, not very much gets into the air.”

“And?” Jack prompted as patiently as he could, which was not very patient at all.

“ _And,_ the humidity is going to make the sensors less, well, sensitive since they have a lot more particulate matter to sort through.”

“Therefore?” He knew where this was going, and he hated it.

“Therefore, we need to wait at least another hour before we pack up.”

Jack groaned. Normally he was thankful for forgettable scientific reading milk run missions, but right about now he almost longed for a little mortal peril, as long as it came with blessed shade. “One hour and not a minute more.”

He sat on the stone steps that lead up to this planet’s stargate. The stone was too hot to lay on comfortably, so he propped an elbow on his knee and rested his chin in his hand. The heat made it easy to doze, just a little, while Teal’c stood guard and Sam and Daniel tried to rig a shade sail out of the jackets and some paracord.

“Okay, now loop it around the gate and tie a taut-line hitch. No. No, it’s like three half hitches. No. No, pass the working end over - the working end. In your left hand. Make that cross over the other side. Okay. Now put the end of that through the - no. No, for God’s sake, Daniel, have you never jury-rigged a shelter before?” Sam asked, somehow simultaneously deeply frustrated and deeply amused by Daniel’s incompetence.

Jack sighed deeply and stood up, nudging Daniel out of the way and tying the knot Sam asked for. Now that she had a partner who had learned knot-tying out of the same book she had, Sam’s construction operation could go a lot faster. 

Daniel _hmmpf_ ’d and snatched his canteen off the ground. The water was no doubt hot by now, but he drank with relish anyway. Then, as Jack watched in horror, he upended the canteen over his head.

The remaining water sluiced out, soaking his head and chest. It ran down his abdomen, soaking the waistband of his pants where they hung, low slung from his hip bones.

Jack hated this godforsaken planet. 

He tied the last knot in their makeshift shade shelter with probably slightly more force than was necessary. “That’s not going to help, it’s too humid. You’re just wasting water,” Jack said, pained.

“Who cares? We’ll be back where there’s plenty of water in… forty minutes.” Daniel wiped water out of his eyes and stretched languidly, muscles flexing deliciously. 

Jack must have been more thirsty than he realized because he suddenly couldn’t think of anything but licking the water off Daniel’s neck and shoulders and chest. As Daniel stretched, a drop fell from his clavicle, riding the curve of his pectoral down to his abdomen, traveling smoothly over the ridges of muscle there. Jack tracked the droplet greedily, like a man dying of dehydration. 

The path of the droplet was suddenly interrupted - Daniel had swiped a hand over his belly and scooped it up. It now clung precariously to his finger. Jack blinked, met Daniel’s amused eyes. 

Shit. Caught. 

Slowly, with no small amount of mischief, Daniel brought his hand to his mouth. Jack couldn’t have looked away even if he wanted to, and, curse him, he found that he didn’t. Daniel’s tongue darted out, catching the droplet from the side of his finger, and Jack felt his lips part helplessly. Heat coiled in the pit of his stomach. He was desperately glad that Daniel was obscured from Sam’s view by the makeshift shelter, and that Teal’c was keeping an eye on their surroundings. The look Daniel was giving him wasn’t exactly appropriate for the workplace.

And since Sam and Teal’c couldn’t see, Jack knew it was all for him.

Daniel’s eyes went half-lidded as he savored the droplet on his tongue before swallowing it with obvious relish. His eyes, still locked on Jack’s, darkened. Slowly, he pushed the finger that had borne the droplet of water into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucked softly on the digit. The look in his eyes was burning and scorched Jack worse than the oppressive heat of the local climate could ever hope to.

And then Daniel winked.

It was too fucking hot for this. Jack gave Daniel a withering look as he ruthlessly squashed the arousal that had been blooming within him, turning on his heel to return to his previous spot on the steps. 

“There’s room here in the shade, sir,” Sam said as he was getting settled. She was right, but barely. Daniel had joined her, sprawling out in the shade. They were both spread out and taking up the whole space, but if they sat up and got close, Jack would fit with only a very minimal amount of touching. Daniel caught his eye and patted the ground next to him invitingly, the very picture of mischief.

Any amount of touching was too much, for a whole variety of reasons.

“Pass. I’m working on my tan,” Jack said, pulling his hat down over his eyes and stretching out on the remaining jackets spread out over the steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keen eyes might note that there's now an estimate of how many chapters are left in this series. We aren't even half way through, folks, stay tuned!


End file.
